Duplicity
by Iloveplotbunnies
Summary: AU 4.24— Her last words, much like the temptress of a woman who had spoken them out loud, could have held more meanings and there was only so much time left for them both. J/L.
1. Prologue

**Title: **Duplicity

**Disclaimer: **Let's establish that I don't own The Mentalist, okay?

**Rating: **T

**Summary: **AU 4.24— Her last words, much like the temptress of a woman who had spoken them out loud, could have held more meanings and there was only so much time left for them both. J/L.

Written for 2012 Reverse Big Bang over on Livejournal, using the lovely fanmix from justlook3. I also want to thank loveconquersallxxx for all of the continious handholding and cattle prodding, because I would have never finished this story (or any of the other three Reverse Big Bang stories) I wrote last month without her. :D

Most of the dialogue for this story is taken from 4x24, so major spoilers ahead!

* * *

Prologue—

Five minutes after Patrick Jane had met Teresa Lisbon and she had flashed him a coy smile from across the room; he had known exactly who and what she was.

With her pinned-up brunette hair, her pale unblemished face, her brilliant smile, and her sparkling green eyes, which revealed something far more sinister brewed beneath the surface than what anybody else could see. Teresa Lisbon was the devil's advocate, gifted to him by the devil himself: Red John, the infamous serial killer of his wife, daughter and other countless individuals.

Although, just weeks prior to their first brief encounter in Vegas—Jane had accidentally bumped into the woman, much to his chagrin—he had been fired from the California Bureau of Investigation by Special-Agent-in-Charge Luther Wainwright, and he hadn't looked back since. He had a feeling that the Senior Agent of the Serious Crimes Unit—his "boss" and friend—Lorelei Martins was probably tearing her hair out looking for him, as he had completely disappeared from her radar to find Red John.

However, when Jane had faked his public breakdown within the CBI to find the serial killer, he hadn't exactly expected Red John to send one of his own, to see if his desire for revenge was truly gone.

Teresa, he had assumed from their first chance encounter months ago—her, dressed in the form-fitting red cocktail waitress uniform of the Crimson Hat, which had put several of her assets on display for everybody to admire—had been used by Red John for more things than just "testing the waters" of his misguided revenge.

Jane slyly grinned into his scotch on the rocks, as he remained seated at the brightly lit bar. Six months of staying on the down low, cutting off all contact with the CBI, and going back to his conman roots in Vegas had resulted in Red John's scarlet woman popping up on occasion, usually whenever alcohol was involved. Jane doubted Martins would have been too thrilled with him or his plan, especially if she ever found out that he had taken to drinking copious amounts of alcohol and dealing drugs to catch a serial killer; after all, the senior agent already disliked most of his actions pertaining to the Red John case. And if he had to be completely honest with himself, six months away from Lorelei Martins to catch Red John in his own way had been a total relief.

He heard Teresa sit down in the vacant chair next to him and from the corner of his vision, he notice her pull out her Blackberry phone with her black-gloved hands; he kept his face completely passive, even though he was highly amused by her choice of phone, as he continued to fiddle with the coin in his hand. The bartender (also dressed in red and black) brought her a drink (tequila), which she immediately downed, before she sat the glass back down and looked to him with a small smile.

He waited for her speak first, as she always usually did.

"Magic?" Teresa's voice finally asked and he glanced up at her in faux surprise. He had the vague feeling that the green-eyed woman didn't believe in magic, but he let it slide for the sake of a conversation.

"Magic?" He repeated, lowly; the silver coin still sat in-between his fingers.

"What you do with those coins." Teresa's full attention was on the casino coin in his hand. He doubted the short brunette cocktail waitress would be hard to hypnotize into giving him answers, but he wasn't about to press his luck with her (or Red John, for that matter). "Magic."

"I'm not a magician; it's not really magic in what I do with those coins." Jane answered, before he took a sip of his glass; the bitter liquid felt coarse against his throat.

"No?" She was obviously playing with him, which oddly amused him again. It wasn't too often (with Martins excluded) that someone would willingly ask questions they already knew the answer to in jest. Teresa _was _good at what she did for her master, but he was better at the game. He always had been. "You seem like one, with all of the coin tricks and the evasiveness." He raised both of his eyebrows in her direction; evasiveness was a requirement for most jobs anymore. "I'm saying you seem to be a man of many secrets."

_If only she knew_, he thought.

"Aren't we all?" Jane asked her and she laughed, softly. Teresa, he silently realized, had a beautiful laugh and a beautiful smile.

"I've brought you drinks a few times. I've also seen you do a few tricks, you're pretty good." Teresa responded and he brightly grinned.

"Ah, yes. I remember." He shifted to point his finger at her. "Teresa, right?" Teresa nodded, as she moved her arms to cross against her semi-exposed chest with a smile. "How are you doing? I'm Patrick." He extended his hand toward her, which she carefully took and shook. Teresa had a stellar grip and he wondered if Red John had ever used her for any other business type deal.

"Hi Patrick." Teresa greeted, while she pulled her hand from his. "You're not a magician?"

"No," he said with the slight shake of his head. Honesty was the best policy, after all. "I'm a conman and I steal from people."

Teresa shifted in surprise. "I'm honestly surprised. I don't know what to say to that." Oh, yes she did. She probably had a million things to say on the tip of her tongue, but she wouldn't risk blowing her cover. He glanced away from her. "You act as if it's the most normal thing to say."

"It is." Jane said. He glanced back at her. "If you know what you're doing, of course."

"And you know what you're doing?" Teresa asked him and he nodded; most of the time it was guesswork, but he had always been gifted in the department of deductive reasoning. "That doesn't make it not wrong."

"There's no such thing as wrong." All of the CBI would have probably disagreed with that statement, because even he disagreed with it. What Red John did was wrong, but he couldn't say that to the killer's helper.

"Last time I checked, society still had laws to follow." Ah, so Teresa had a conscience? The idea that anybody within Red John's clutches had a conscience made him weary; how did her presence of a conscience not bring Red John's wrath upon her? He had killed other hands for much less, and they hadn't even had consciences.

"Well, they do." Jane agreed with her. "There's legal or illegal." He paused to catch his thoughts; he had to pull this con off, or nothing involving Red John was going to come from it. "There's happy or sad, rich or poor, alive or," Jane briefly glanced at his captivated audience of one with a soft smile, "dead, but there's no wrong or right." He gave a slight shake of his head to make a valid point. "Stuff just happens, that's all. One damned thing after enough."

Jane grew silent. One damned thing after another was right; Red John had murdered his wife and child nearly nine years ago, had indirectly attempted to kill Martins twice (Once by Dumar Hardy—one of Red John's accomplices, who Jane had promptly shot dead—and once by a bomb strapped to her chest), Red John had indirectly killed Bosco and his team almost three years ago through Rebecca, he had brainwashed Kristina Frye into thinking she was dead, ruined Junior Agent Grace Van Pelt's chance of happiness via her now dead fiancé, and the serial killer topped everything off by sending one of his many friends to keep tabs on his mental state.

He watched Teresa open her mouth again; his face still passive.

"Right or wrong exists, you do know that." Teresa continued on. He took a slight breath, before he glanced at her; her green eyes glued to his face, her dark hair pinned to the top of her head in a messy bun.

"I killed a man last year." Timothy Carter's death had almost cost everybody on the unit everything. Martins had almost lost her senior agent position and while she had seemed okay with that, he hadn't been able to just not help her with Bertram. "It turns out; he wasn't the man I wanted to kill." He pretended to hesitate with a flourish, while Teresa leaned closer in interest. "Anyway, now when I recall shooting him dead," he took another slight pause, building suspense, "it still feels good." Truthfully, it didn't. Even though Carter and his wife had been psychopaths themselves; killing someone without feeling guilt was never an easy feat.

Teresa blinked at his confession.

"It's a happy little memory to cherish, like Christmas." Jane grinned at her, as she turned her head slightly at his unobvious lie.

"If you're trying to scare me, it's not working." Teresa responded; her green eyes back on his. "I don't scare that easy."

"I wouldn't dare try it." He answered back, still with a fairly wide grin across his face. He had absolutely no doubts within his mind that Teresa was almost fearless, as he doubted that Red John would keep anybody around, who was fearful of their own shadow. Teresa laughed again, which prompted his next question. "You seem like a happy soul, Teresa. Are you happy?"

To the untrained eye, Teresa's brief pause would have gone completely unnoticed, but he wasn't untrained. "Yes, I am." She gave with a nod and he could immediately tell she was lying. If it hadn't been for her momentary pause; it would have been her green eyes—the woman, he continuously noticed, had honest eyes.

"Well, that's nice." Jane played into her lie. "What's your secret?" She said nothing for a moment or so; her thoughts, he could see, were turning in her mind.

"Faith." Teresa said, with a faint smile on her face. It was then, he noticed with a slight look of disdain, the golden cross necklace that hung at the base of her neck.

"Oh." Jane responded, amused. Religion had never been his cup of tea, especially as he was a self-proclaimed atheist. "Yes, yes. I've heard that." Martins and Van Pelt were devout Christians, which he had often poked fun at. Both women had killed men with guns, yet they still went to church every Sunday, as if it were fine? He couldn't voice his thoughts out loud to Teresa, but he wondered why Red John kept a woman of great faith and conscience around within his organization. Did the serial killer not worry that she would run to the police, before he could kill her?

"Patrick." A male voice interrupted their conversation, as the voice's grubby hand reached past them both at the bar. Jane grinned at the familiar arm of Oscar, even though he was highly annoyed that his talk with Teresa had been cut short. Oscar grabbed ahold of his shoulders tightly, as he brought Teresa into the conversation about his various accomplishments. On the outside, she seemed amazed that he could "reach beyond the veil of death", but he knew she didn't believe in that kind of nonsense from her body language.

Jane quickly motioned for Teresa to hand him a set of matches, which she did without a word or argument, before he set Oscar's lackey on fire with his own shot of alcohol and ran from the bar. As his feet hit the black pavement outside of the Crimson Hat and he started down one of the various dark alleyways to escape, he couldn't help but briefly ponder the enigma that was Teresa Lisbon.


	2. Part One

**Title: **Duplicity

**Disclaimer: **Still establishing that I don't own anything. :D

Thanks to tromana, MarvelDC superhero fan, SteeleSimz, and TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme for the reviews!

* * *

**1—**

After Jane had spent several hours in a Las Vegas jail cell for what he had thought to be a bunch of bogus charges, as he hadn't even done most of the assaulting, the bailiff led him from the small jail cell and motioned for him to step up to the caged desk without a single word.

"Sign that." The gruff officer commanded of his clipboard. Jane hurriedly penned down his own name, as he struck up a conversation with the uniformed man.

"Why am I being released? I didn't raise bail." His eyes focused on the papered clipboard, while he waited for the officer to respond to his question. He hadn't hypnotized anyone within the jail system and he hadn't been able to pay bail, due to his isolation from the other inmates and due to his lack of cash.

"Somebody raised it for you." Jane snorted quietly at the officer's words. He couldn't believe the audacity of that woman, who apparently had found him after months of no contact.

"Who was that?" Though Jane had a pretty good idea of who had raised his bail, he was slightly surprised that Martins and her team weren't waiting to lecture him for his behavior.

"I don't have that information." The officer replied, as he took the clipboard from Jane.

"Lorelei Martins is my guess." Jane answered with a grin, before he rocked on the ball of his feet in amusement at her extremely well hidden saving people complex. "Hm? Martins?" The officer fixed him with a humorless stare.

"I don't have that information." The officer repeated once again. Jane wondered if Martins had anonymously posted his bail, just to teach him several lessons in scaring her half to death.

"Okay, you don't have that information." Jane responded, brushing off the once full manila envelope of materials toward the officer. "You can keep that, thank you." Jane moved to dot at his sweaty brow and face with a napkin from his personal belongings, before he turned on his heels and stuck his hands in his pockets.

He carefully opened the painted door from inside the jail, as the bright sunshine stung at his eyes, with the hopes of catching Martins outside, but she wasn't there. Nobody stood outside the single door and as he clamored down the unfenced road, onto the busy bus and off again across from his motel, he realized that maybe, _just maybe_, Martins hadn't been the one to post his bail.

Jane leisurely unlocked the door to his motel, before he turned on the light switch, only to be greeted by a sea of tacky red furnishing and as always, an empty room with sparse belongings.

* * *

The unexpected knock at his motel door brought him from his slumber atop the velvet red sheets with a soft groan, before he stood from the bed and peered through the shorter peep hole to find Teresa Lisbon outside the locked door.

Jane glanced around the small room in surprise. How had the brunette known where he was staying? Sure, Red John probably kept various tabs on him, but her showing up was a bold move for everyone involved. He slowly opened the lightweight door to greet her with a wan smile.

"Hey." Teresa greeted; he immediately noticed that she had freed her brunette hair, which made his smile grow. Jane had understood that her job required her hair to be worn a certain way, but he thought she had a natural beauty about her with her hair down around her face. Her casual attire surprised him though, as he had thought she'd be a little more risky than just a green short-sleeved, buttoned blouse paired with light blue denim jeans.

"Hey." Jane replied in a mutter.

"Surprised?" Teresa asked him and he slowly nodded. Why wouldn't he be surprised? In his six months of staying at the motel, he had never had a visitor until then.

"Tessa, right?" Jane inquired, though he obviously knew her name.

"Teresa." Teresa politely corrected, before she bowed her head. "I'm sorry, this was a mistake." She turned on her heels to leave, which made Jane think on his feet. If she left, his plan to catch Red John would never work and he needed it (and her) to work for him.

"No, no, no, no, Teresa." Jane nearly had his hand out the door to try and grab onto her green short-sleeved shoulder, when she stepped back into his line of sight. "No, I'm very happy to see you. It's just…" He tilted his head slightly, before he responded in a low mutter. "…I'm a little out of it. It's been a rough week." Jail, no matter how many times he had been in there, was never a fun place to be, he thought with a chuckle.

"Yeah," Teresa agreed softly, "I can imagine." He didn't doubt that either, as she had come to him with something in a brown paper sack. "I brought you some food; chicken soup." She held up the brown paper sack with a kindred smile and Jane heard his stomach growl in response; it had been hours since his last meal.

"For me?" Jane doubted the brunette had poisoned the food, considering she didn't seem like the type of person, who would be partial to using poison.

"Of course!" Her eyes didn't move from his and he stepped back from the door.

"Come in," and she did, "excuse the mess." Jane slammed the door shut behind them both, before he motioned for her to sit down at the lone table. Jane sat across from her seconds later and leveled her with a cool stare. "How did you know my address?"

Teresa slowly pulled the soup from the bag, which he took from her. "The bails bondsman gave it to me." Jane eyed her in a mixture of surprise and confusion; the only people who knew bails bondsman were the bailers and the individuals jailed.

"How did you know who the bails bondsman was?" Jane finally voiced, as Teresa gave a slight laugh.

"What are you here? A detective with the third degree?" They both chuckled out of politeness, even though his laugh had an edge to it.

"I'm sorry," not that he meant it though, "I'm just a little curious." Teresa sat the bag down on the table and crossed her arms against her chest, before she took a deep breath.

"I knew who he was, because I was the one who posted your bail." Jane continued to eye her. Had she done that on her own accord or had Red John forced her to do it? He couldn't see the possible advantages of a serial killer posting bails, but it was yet another question he just couldn't voice to her.

"That's a lot of money," Jane responded to her confession and he watched her bite her lip, "I'll pay you back, as soon as I can."

"Don't worry about it." Teresa stated with the small wave of her hand.

Jane paused briefly, before he continued to speak. "Why did you do that for me?" He watched her face closely for any sign of obvious deceit.

"You seemed down on your luck and I just wanted to help you, which I did." Jane could tell that she was only telling half of the truth, but he couldn't tell which part was truthful. "You don't need to say thank you, okay?"

But he did anyway, which caused her to blush. Teresa either apparently hated being told thank you or hated anybody owing her anything, which continued to add to his initial confusion of her.

He hurriedly popped open the lid on his soup and gave her a glance, as he took in the amazing scent, "do you want some?" She shook her head and he ate some in silence. "Did you make this?" A little light conversation had never hurt anybody.

"I did." Teresa admitted with the nod of her head. "I hope I didn't add too much salt." Jane shook his head with a smile; the brunette, even though she worked for Red John, surprisingly knew how to cook.

"You added the perfect amount, really." He ate another bite to prove his point, which made her smile in response and it made him wonder how a woman like Teresa—someone with a good heart and mind—could end up being a minion to a psychopath serial killer.

Jane finished off the rest of his soup in silence, before he glanced at her again. "Do you have to leave right away?" Teresa shook her head and he saw a plan forming before his very eyes; Red John had sent her to his motel room for a reason, which meant if he asked her to say with him, she couldn't say no. "No? We could watch television together, if you'd like." She nodded without hesitation. "I hear three out of the sixty stations you're supposed to get actually work."

He watched her laugh again, before he stood up from the table's chair and threw himself atop the bed, where Teresa joined him at his request several moments later. Jane flipped on the television to something involving animals, as Teresa kept an inch of distance between them both. He had half expected her to scoot closer to him when the lioness tried to slaughter the zebra, but she didn't and he turned his head slowly to find that she had her lips slightly parted and her entire attention focused on the small screen.

In the near darkness, he took advantage of her non-wavering attention, as he pressed his lips against hers. Show completely forgotten, he moved to bury his hand in her brunette locks, while she responded to his advances with her moist tongue in his mouth.


	3. Part Two

**Title: **Duplicity

**Disclaimer: **Not mine!

Thanks to all of my lovely reviewers, followers, and readers! :D

I am posting two chapters tonight, just so you can all see where the story _does _change. The dialogue within this chapter has minor differences, but next chapter things change. :)

* * *

**2—**

The general smells and sounds of something cooking brought Jane from his peaceful slumber, as his eyes slowly adjusted on the slender and well-toned legs of Teresa, who had pulled on one of his various white collared shirts to fix breakfast.

He smiled faintly at her backside. "Good morning." Teresa turned her head over her shoulder with a faint smile, before she sat down the spatula and slowly approached him—he took a moment to appreciate her lack of attire: his white shirt completely unbuttoned to show her toned stomach, her lacy blue thong which he had thrown across the room last night, and her rounded breasts which were being restrained by her matching blue lace bra. Teresa sat down on the edge of his bed, a lovely aroma of cinnamon and vanilla around her, before she pressed her lips against his.

Jane watched her pull back with a smile, as she opened her mouth. "You must have been tired."

"I was." Jane answered her, as he fought against his urge to yawn. He hadn't exactly been sleeping well lately and his recent "strenuous" activity, which he hadn't done in years, made him more lethargic.

"I have work today, so I need to be leaving soon," Teresa told him, "but I made you some eggs." His stomach growled again and he smiled in response.

"How did you know I liked eggs?" He had helped crack many cases wide open using eggs too.

Teresa shrugged. "Lucky guess." Jane moved to redress his own self, while the brunette finished the eggs. "Would you like some tea?" He nodded his head, as he sat down at the clean table and waited for her to bring him breakfast.

Eventually, she sat the white plate of eggs and the accompanying white cup of tea down in front of him, which he devoured while she redressed herself.

"These are delicious." Jane complimented her cooking. "Why aren't you a chef for the Crimson Hat?" A light blush covered Teresa's pale cheeks again. "I hope we'll see each other again. I really enjoyed last night." He gave her a sly grin, as he watched her fingers work the buttons on her green top.

"That's not up to me, Patrick." Teresa softly responded and if he hadn't been expecting that bombshell, surprise would have been written all across his face.

"You have no say in us?" Jane asked with his eyebrow raised, as he watched her step closer to him, before she reclaimed her seat across from him. "I thought we lived in a free country too."

"None at all." Teresa answered and Jane glanced at her with a confused smile.

"I don't follow you." Jane calmly told her.

She bit her lip once again. "I do what Red John tells me to do." Jane lost his smile.

"What?" He asked, pretending to be hurt.

Teresa shook her head. "Your freedom, our night together? That was a gift from him." Jane stared. What kind of a sick monster gave sex as a "gift" and used to his associate to carry out that order? It made him absolutely sick to his stomach. "You can hurt me, if you'd like." He watched her close her eyes for a second and he felt his heartbeat quicken in his chest; had Red John hit her once or twice? Was that why she was so ready to accept whatever punishment that would come her way for deceiving him?

"No," he told her honestly, "I don't want to hurt you." With a slow exhale, he continued with the second part of his plan. "I've given up, he knows that." He swallowed. "What does he want from me?"

"He doesn't want anything from you," Teresa quietly stated and Jane didn't believe that for a second, "after all of these years, he's come to see you as an old comrade; rather than an enemy." Teresa paused to catch her breath. "He hopes you'll come to feel the same way."

"A comrade?" Jane questioned in disbelief. He watched Teresa nod and he bated his breath for a moment; he knew he had two options on how to continue his act. The first, he could just ignore her and continue on without asking questions. Or, he could ask how _she _felt on the entire subject. He quickly weighed both options and had almost gone with the first one, but something about Teresa's behavior bothered him. Most of Red John's accomplices followed his orders blindly. Teresa, on the other hand, seemed to have a mind of her own. He blinked in her direction. "And how do you feel about that?"

Teresa quickly bowed her head. "I only feel what Red John wants me to feel." The tone of her response lacked the usual enthusiasm that other Red John accomplices would have had, which made him highly suspicious. Instead of saying anything to her about it though, he merely read her body language. Teresa sat with her shoulders straight back, while she seemed to be slightly shaking below her waist; her feet tapped against the carpeted floor, as she continued to press her arms into her chest.

Jane knew the signs of anxiety all too well within body language, and Teresa Lisbon—Red John's gift to him—showed all of the classic signs. By the way the brunette held herself and had spoken to him on what Red John wanted, he had a pretty good feeling that she wanted out. She probably just didn't know how to do so without being killed by Red John.

"He can give you a new life." She continued on, completely unaware that he had figured her out in one gaze.

"You have to leave." Jane quickly stood from his chair. He needed more time to plan without her around, because he not only wanted to kill Red John, but he wanted to save her too.

"He's offering the hand of friendship." Jane had his hand on the doorknob, even as she continued to prattle on. "If you refuse him, he'll be upset. Anyone would be."

The door opened and bright sunlight poured into the room. "Get out."

Teresa stood from her chair and stepped through the front door, before she glanced back at him in sadness. "You know where to find me." Jane stopped her by briefly touching the cross upon her neck with two fingers, to which he hoped she would understand the message he was trying to silently convey. The brunette nodded, he shut the door and he omnisciently grinned; Red John was going to die, and Teresa, willingly or not, was going to help him do it.


	4. Part Three

**Title: **Duplicity

**Disclaimer: **Not mine!

* * *

**3—**

Hidden from plain sight, Jane watched Teresa enter the main doors to Saint Mary's church with a blank expression displayed across his face. The short brunette had apparently gone home and changed her clothes, as she now wore a grey t-shirt and a pair of dark denim jeans. He watched her dip her fingers in the light colored stoup filled to the brim with holy water, before she made the sign of the cross against her body; her slightly wet fingers went from her forehead to her chest and to her shoulders. Jane didn't blink. Teresa's devote loyalty to her religion, he had quickly come to realize, probably had something to do with Red John.

Regardless of what he thought about her beliefs in a higher power, he had to admire her mettle. Most people in her situation would have wanted to avoid the possibility of dying an excruciating death by remaining silent, but Teresa seemed ready to greet the possibility of her own death with open arms and an open mouth.

Jane glanced down at the burner phone in his hand; the cheap white numbering had begun to rub off the plastic keys from his constant touch. He still had about five minutes until he had to present himself to her, but he felt that he couldn't keep her waiting. Carefully, he stepped from his hiding spot and started down the long aisle, until he slid into the wooden pew behind her on the left hand side of the room.

Teresa said nothing to acknowledge his presence and he took the momentary silence to glance around within the well-lit church; bright, burning candles remained on almost every available surface, while white flowers, a silver candelabrum, a lone wooden cross surrounded a picturesque stained glass window. He had figured out that Teresa was of the Catholic faith from the soft muttering of prayers that he heard from her the night prior and from his memorized knowledge of Las Vegas, he had come to realize that there was only one central Catholic Church in the area: Saint Mary's.

His tap on her cross with two fingers earlier had been a rather large gamble to make, especially with somebody he had only known intimately for less than twenty-four hours. If Teresa had been simply faking her digression from Red John, the serial killer would have shown up with her, but a subtle glance around the church revealed nobody else except Teresa and himself.

Teresa cleared her throat, as he refocused his attention on the back of her head. "Are you here about my earlier…?"

"No." Jane interrupted her and Teresa became completely quiet; her shoulders tensed before his eyes and he leaned forward to hear the beginning words to a rushed prayer. "We both know why I'm here, Teresa. It has absolutely nothing to do with our previous conversation." He heard the quiet prayer increase in speed and he couldn't help but be amused by her repeated words. If Red John wanted her dead, no amount of Hail Mary's were going to spare her life from the serial killer's ways. "I'm not going to kill you." Jane tried to soothe her with his low voice. "I'm here to help you. You can trust me." The prayers stopped and he frowned. Would she believe his drop of the t-word or would she be like Martins, who continued to throw the concept of trust back in his face? He waited for her to say something, but she didn't, and he spoke again. "How long have you wanted to leave him?"

Jane watched Teresa's shoulders lift slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about." He rolled his eyes; the woman's act was falling apart before his eyes and if he had figured it out, Red John had probably figured it out also. "He is…"

"Body language doesn't lie." Jane stopped her again with a whisper and she fell silent. "The tensing of the shoulders, the muttering of prayers, the jumpy behavior; you might as well be shouting that you're betraying your master…" Teresa's narrowed green eyes met his and he smiled at her indignation. The emotion of anger was truly a beautiful thing, as it was one of the few human emotions that couldn't be faked.

"He's not my master." Jane could hear the raw anger in her voice. "Wipe that damned smile off your face!" He almost chuckled. When angry, Teresa had a dark edge to her voice and facial features, which only added to her overall attraction. "Or I'll smack it off!" He couldn't blame her for being upset at the insinuation that Red John controlled every aspect of her life, but he had to push at her boundaries. Trust wasn't automatically given, just because they had shared a single night of passion together. Teresa still had to prove that she could be trustworthy, before he even thought about calling Martins for help. "He's my…"

"Friend?" Jane guessed and Teresa nodded in response. He stared at her. Red John didn't have friends, he only had tools—tools he could ultimately use and then discard, when they lost their general purposes. Jane had encountered plenty of examples over the course of four years to prove that everybody who worked for the serial killer would eventually be met with a tragic end. Jared Renfrew and his prostitute friend had been butchered by Red John within a Tijuana motel room bathtub for having information. Dumar Hardy had been shot after he had attempted to kill Martins. Rebecca had been poisoned after she had been arrested for killing three agents and putting another in critical care. Todd Johnson had been burned alive by Craig O'Laughlin for having information. Craig O'Laughlin had been shot by Junior Agent Grace Van Pelt and Ex-Special-Agent-in-Charge Madeleine Hightower for having nearly killed them all. "You know what he does to his so-called friends, don't you?" Teresa broke her eye contact with him, as he watched her turn her head to face the front of the church again. Jane took her silence as a yes. "I'll ask you again; how long have you wanted to leave him, Teresa?"

Silence met his question and it stretched on for what had seemed like forever, until finally, he heard her voice again. "Longer than a year." Jane blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected her to say anything over three months, because she was still alive. Red John, to Jane, had always killed on the first signs of possible deflection—the lack of eye contact or the hesitation to follow out orders—and he wondered how Red John hadn't noticed the small inconsistencies in his right hand female's actions. "He only sees what he wants to see, Patrick." Teresa continued. "I've been with him for over fifteen years and he sees me as his most obedient friend; he gives me all of these special privileges—the ability to choose my own religion, the ability to attend churches, the ability to have a life outside of his—and in return, I obey his every order." Jane eyed her. Red John sending Teresa to him, to persuade him to become a disciple, had been the serial killer's worst mistake. "He asks me to kill, I ask with what weapon and who. He asks me to make him happy, I will make him happy. He asks me to die for him; I would have no choice but to do so."

Jane understood the appeal of joining Red John, but how could anybody live like that? The serial killer was the devil with a silver tongue, who could promise you the world and lure you into only coveting his love till the very end.

"Why did you join him?" Jane asked her. It was one of the few answers that he hadn't been able to gleam from her body language; the brunette woman didn't seem troubled or easily impressed, in fact, she seemed like somebody that should have been able to avoid the temptations of Red John's tongue. "You don't seem to be of usual recruiting fare." He heard Teresa chuckle softly and he wondered what was so funny about his comment.

"His friends don't have things in common, Patrick. We're all normal people, who are drawn in by false promises of love, comfortable, acceptance and understanding." Teresa explained, though she still had her eyes focused on the colorful stained glass window before them both. "He'll love you, comfort you, accept you and understand you, as long as you do what he asks and you aren't caught." Jane said nothing in response to her soft explanation. "He promised me love. He has given me plenty of it, both physical and emotional…" Teresa trailed off and Jane made a face. The very idea that anybody—young woman or adult woman—would give their body up to Red John, because the killer simply asked for it, made him sick to his stomach. Teresa had to know she was more than cheap sex, didn't she?

He continued to stare at the back of her head, while his stomach worked itself into a series of tight knots. If she didn't know that she was more than cheap sex, last night had just given her another reason to believe that she was nothing more to anybody but an extremely good lay.

"I'm sorry." Jane managed a heartfelt apology and Teresa shrugged without turning to face him.

"It's okay, I know my place." Teresa replied in a whisper. Jane frowned, before he pressed his hand against her shoulder in comfort. Teresa flinched away from his soft touch and he clenched his teeth together. How could anybody treat something _that _good and wholesome so poorly?

"I'm not going to hurt you or let him hurt you," Jane promised, "you have to believe that." He heard Teresa snort in response. "What?" Did she not think he was good enough to save her?

"I've seen you use a gun before; I'd be dead before you could even figure out where to aim your weapon." Jane blinked. He had only used a gun twice; once to shoot Hardy and the other time to shoot Carter with, which meant Teresa had either been at both events or she had just been at one. "It's a valiant gesture, Patrick. It's just not something you should say, because you feel guilty or because you think I'm a worthwhile cause."

"It has nothing to do with that." Jane said with his hand still on her shoulder. "It's because I can tell you're a good person, who just ended up on the wrong side of things." Telling the actual truth and not the abridged version of why he was helping her would have had horrible consequences for them both, especially as he had no idea how she truly felt about Red John. "Red John has only magnified your bad qualities, Teresa; he hasn't curtailed your good ones." Teresa had a heart, unlike all of the other Red John followers. "If you can trust me, I can help you." He didn't get a response. "I have friends, who can help protect you from him."

"In exchange for what, Patrick?" Teresa asked. Jane inhaled sharply. "I know nothing comes without a price, especially protection with the CBI." Teresa sounded somewhat bitter at the idea of being protected by the police, though he couldn't exactly blame her. They hadn't been able to protect Renfrew or Rebecca from death and Teresa probably knew that. "Tell me or I'm out of here. I have better things I could be doing." She stood up from the pew—effectively ripping her shoulder from his hand—and he yanked her back down with one hand on her arm. "Don't touch me!" She struggled against his hold.

"I need information on him." Teresa went completely still; her eyes wide on his. Jane could hear her heavy breaths and he hoped she wasn't going to scream bloody murder. He had thought it went without saying, but the both of them being seen in public together was an extremely dangerous thing. Teresa pulled her arm from his grasp, as he watched her blink. Teresa certainly had feelings for Red John, he could tell that from her pained look at the mere suggestion of betraying him, but he could also tell that the suggestion filled her with uncertainty. "If you tell my colleague and I what you know about him, I will make sure that he doesn't get you."

"It's not that easy." And he knew it wasn't; doing the right thing was never easy. "He's the only person I have left in my life, and…" Teresa bowed her head and he wanted to brush his hand against her cheek in comfort, but he knew he couldn't. He had to remain objective and he had to focus on the task at hand, which happened to be getting the information about Red John out of Teresa.

"You're not alone," he soothed her with a kind smile, "you have me, and I'm not going to leave you." Teresa glanced up at him in surprise. "I will always be there to save you, Teresa. I know what I'm asking isn't easy to do, but I know you can do this." Jane could read the hesitation in her posture and he knew he had to win her over with some kind of final gesture. "Don't let Red John win, Teresa." He quickly took her soft hand from atop the wooden pew and held it tightly within his own. "You deserve better."

The silence stretched on again and Jane held his breath. If Teresa rejected his offer, he'd be without anything or anybody to lead him to Red John and she would be dead before the morning came. If Teresa accepted his offer, he'd be one step ahead of Red John and she would see another sunrise.

He just hoped she would see the logic in his offer.


	5. Part Four

**Title: **Duplicity

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

I am _updating _and _finishing _this entire fic tonight. I've been meaning to do this for a while, but things keep getting in the way. I really do appreciate every single review I get, so thank you!

* * *

**4—**

Upstairs in the sparsely decorated casino lounge, Jane remained seated across from Teresa, who wore her red cocktail waitress uniform with a small smile. His hand remained inches from hers, as he started to speak.

"I've been thinking about what you said, about your friend." Jane glanced at Teresa, as she tilted her head slightly. Her green eyes completely void of any warmth or familiarity, unlike they had been days ago within the church.

"And?" Teresa asked. She looked completely at ease with his act of discomfort, as she waited for his answer.

"You said he can help me start a new life?" Jane replied and Teresa nodded. "What does that mean exactly?" Teresa stretched her arms out on the table before them, the gentle smile still played on her lips.

"He can get you a new identity, money, a place to live, and a job, if you so desire to have one." Teresa explained.

"And I do what in exchange?" Jane continued his line of pointless questioning, as he already knew exactly what Red John desired. Teresa had explained his entire plan days prior, before he had hypnotized her to forget their entire conversation within the church; he hadn't exactly wanted to send her back to Red John, but they both knew normality was the key, until he could figure out how to save her.

"Accept his friendship." Teresa answered back happily. Jane briefly wondered how Red John had reacted to the change in Teresa's personality, as the woman had gone from a kind hearted woman to a murderous and dangerous woman, all without her faith, due to one minor suggestion: _You will do whatever Red John tells you to do without hesitation._

"It's that easy?" Teresa's hypnosis had been _that _easy; a kiss to the top of her head would free her from the suggestion and she would be able to spill Red John's secrets. Of course, he couldn't break the suggestion until he had finished through on his con with Red John.

"Yes." Teresa gave. "He'll want to speak to you first though." _He wants to test your willingness_, Teresa had explained to him on Red John's possible insistence of a meeting. "He wants to make sure you're ready, if that's okay?"

"Yeah." Jane had to accept the conditions set by Red John. If he didn't, they'd get absolutely nowhere.

"And you'll need to bring him a gift." Teresa continued on and he prepared himself for what the serial killer would want, which was Lorelei Martins' dead body. "To show your respect for him." The idea of death as respect was truly laughable.

"What kind of a gift?" Teresa hadn't been able to tell him which part of Martins that Red John would want. Jane knew they could get hands or feet from the CBI, if the serial killer needed proof of death that badly.

"Well," Teresa spoke again, "Lorelei Martins' dead body would be the perfect thing." Jane's eyes met her dilated pupils in faux surprise. Secretly, he couldn't wait to call Martins up and ask for her dead body, especially considering she hadn't been too thrilled when he had shown up on her doorstep two nights ago.

Jane laughed, partially it was because of Red John's idea of a gift and partially, it was because of Martins' reaction to reappearance after six months of radio silence. He shifted slightly; his shoulder still hurt from when she had slugged him.

"That's absurd."

Teresa fell silent. He knew he had to pitch a fit about what the serial killer wanted, because Teresa would have to report back to Red John, who would be pleased with his changed friend.

She shook her head. "What did you tell me earlier?" There were plenty of things he had told her earlier, both in bed and out, but he doubted those things were what she was referring to. "There is no right or wrong, there's just stuff that happens." He nearly raised his eyebrow at her snarky comment. Had Red John told her to mock him?

"No," he tried to plead with her, "there has to be something else." Jane also knew there wouldn't be anything else he could bring. Red John was dead set on having Martins' body, because she was the closest thing he had to a "friend" within the CBI.

"I can't think of anything else that would please him."

"Well, I can't do that." Jane felt the need to reject.

Teresa grabbed his hand. "I understand you're not there yet, but look at it from his point of view." Teresa paused and he braced himself for the rest. "How else will he know that you've truly had a change of heart?" Within a hypnotic suggestion, Teresa had apparently gained the skill of manipulation. Jane hated using her like that, but he needed Red John more. He watched Teresa scoot from the red leather booth; her rounded breasts on ample display before his very eyes and he couldn't help but check out her ass, as she stepped past him without another word.

Jane waited five minutes, before he pulled out his burner phone and dialed a somewhat familiar number; the line rang twice.

"Hello?" Jane heard the sultry voice of Senior Agent Lorelei Martins answer.

"Good morning, Agent! How is the lovely Californian weather today? Nevada is having a bit of a dry spell." Jane grinned, as he heard Martins curse, which she rarely did.

"What do you want?" Martins asked. "And make it quick. Agent Wainwright was just in here and I'm afraid he might return again." Jane could hear the scorn in her voice, which amused him. Martins wasn't a huge fan of Wainwright, then again, nobody really was. Wainwright was a twelve-year-old in a big man's world.

"I want your body, now." Jane had never actually attempted to hit on his attractive co-worker before; however, the need for her dead body just made the joke that much better.

"Ja…!"

"Dead." Jane interrupted her and Martins fell silent. "Are you still there? Did I kill you with my words?" He doubted he had, but it never hurt to check.

"My dead what?" Martins sounded livid and Jane continued to grin; this was going to be a fun conversation.


	6. Part Five

**Title: **Duplicity

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

**5—**

Out of his little blue car and into the bright Nevada sunshine, Jane carried the brown box that contained Lorelei Martins' "head" toward the lone basket attached bike that sat on the sidewalk. He glanced around the eerily silent street, before he fingered the note attached to the bicycle handlebars.

_Take bike to 5071 Keston Dr. _

_Bring Martins. _

Jane nearly shook his head. Teresa had beautiful penmanship, but the idea of placing any head in a metal basket was odd, even for Red John.

"And the game continues." Jane muttered to the team, who remained streets away to help him catch Red John. Nobody from the team said anything in response, and Jane hopped on the bike.

The wind in his face felt nice, as he peddled toward the address. He glanced down at the box with a grim smile; Red John wasn't around, Martins was listening, and he wanted to have a little more fun with her.

"Hey Martins," Jane said, lowly, "does your boyfriend take you for rides on the handlebars of his bike?"

"Jane." He heard Martins' voice through the earpiece in his ear; she sounded annoyed with him. "Knock it off."

"If your boyfriend _was _here, he'd probably think this could be considered a date; you know, the wind in your hair…" Jane couldn't stop poking fun at her and her semi-mysterious boyfriend of eighteen months, who had seemed to be weary of he and Martins even being in the same room together.

"You're sick, Jane." Martins retorted and he chuckled. "Do we need to get you checked out?" Jane lost his grin to scowl. He had been of perfect mental health, fake breakdown or not. He didn't respond back to her, as he glanced around for the address atop the bike, which he eventually found.

Unfortunately, it was an empty lot.

"No one is here." Jane told the team. He glanced around within the grassy area, a distance away from the highway, before he heard the sound of a vehicle pulling into the dirt area. "There's a long black limousine."

"We'll be there shortly." Martins responded. She had never been one much for words. "Stay alive, okay?"

"Wait." Jane stopped her. "Let's see if this is Red John." He had no doubt that it was Red John, but he wanted to bide himself time; he wanted to kill Red John himself and if Martins showed up, she'd never let that happen. The limo came to a complete stop and outstepped the driver—a rather menacing fellow, who Jane knew he already wouldn't like. "Large man with a gun," Jane informed the team quietly, "Red John's girl." Teresa had stepped from the limo also—she had her brunette hair down around her shoulders, a formfitting green t-shirt on, and a pair of dark jeans that sat low on her hips. "This is it."

Jane pulled the box from the bike and kicked the bike over with his foot, which told the team he was in need of their assistance. "We're moving in." He heard Martins breathe into his ear and he hoped she'd make it before Red John killed him or Teresa.

"Hi." Teresa greeted with a small wave, before she tucked her hands into her pockets.

"Hi." Jane responded.

"Is that the gift?" Teresa questioned, with her complete attention on the box. Jane glanced toward the vehicle.

He met her question with a question of his own. "Is Red John in there?"

"He's looking forward to speaking with you." Jane stepped closer to Teresa, who beckoned him toward the limo. "You know," she spoke again; "there's a childish hope about you that really is quite adorable." He nearly grinned. Under hypnosis, it was almost impossible to lie, which meant Teresa thought he was adorable. He thought she was adorable also, when she wasn't playing Red John's game. "Put the box on the hood." His heart hammered within his chest, as he sat the box down atop the heated metal. He obviously hadn't shot Martins (or killed Special Agent Wayne Rigsby either) like the news had said, but he had thought that the serial killer wouldn't catch onto their entire act. After all, Red John only saw what he wanted to see. "So, what is it?" Teresa asked, as he leaned against the limo.

"It's the severed head of Lorelei Martins, Teresa." Jane answered her. Teresa scoffed. "You told me to bring her head and I brought her head." Jane wiggled the box around and Teresa shook her head, a slight smile at her lips. "What else could it be?"

"Did you use a football? A cabbage?" Teresa asked. Jane frowned. Had had the man known? He and Martins had planned her "death" so carefully and everybody on the unit had been so quiet about the subject also. Jane shifted his eyes, as he responded back. "A melon. A honeydew. It's organic." Not that Teresa or Red John would care much for his gardening skills, but still.

The large man with the gun opened the box, which revealed Martins' "head": a yellowish-green melon with a short, brunette wig and one of Martins' various guns.

"You're adorable." Teresa stated, before she glanced at the large man with a rather twisted smile. "Frisk him, and then beat him." She pulled her hands from her pockets to hold up a single finger. "A little though. Red John doesn't appreciate damaged goods." Jane slowly raised his hands, had the surveillance equipment taken from him, before he was punched in the abdomen. Teresa tsked lightly, as he clutched at his abdomen. The large man clipped him in the side with his fist and Jane inhaled sharply; the pain, both at his abdomen and at his side, was barely manageable. "Stop it! We haven't got much time; put him in the passenger seat." Teresa stepped past him, as the large man grabbed him by the collar and threw him into the passenger seat. Teresa climbed in next to him and he groaned lightly; not only did his abdomen and side continue to throb, but so did his head—the large gorilla with the gun had shoved his head against the roof of the vehicle. Jane panted silently, while Teresa stared on. Concern wasn't written across her face at his disheveled state, as she glanced toward the steering wheel—her face completely free of all emotion.

"Hello Patrick," Red John's breathy voice greeted from the back of the limo. Jane thought about turning his head around to glance at Red John, but he had a feeling that Red John had instructed Teresa not to allow him to turn his head. Jane moved his hand toward the mirror and pulled it down, so he could see the silhouette of the killer—Red John, Jane knew from the word of Rosalind Harker, was of about an average build and an average height. The man before his eyes was of both.

"Hey," was all Jane could say, as he gave the man a half nod. "How are you doing?"

"Small talk won't get us anywhere," replied the voice in a small chuckle. The silhouette remained oddly still, which made Jane nervous.

"How did you know?" Jane asked, while he shifted his aching body.

"Oh, you strung me along for a good while. Well done." Red John congratulated him. "Luckily, I have a good friend in the FBI, so I found out when the FBI found out."

Jane felt ill to his stomach. Another mole? He only knew Agent Susan Darcy and he doubted she was Red John material, considering the woman was by the book material. He kept his eyes on Red John. "Cat got your tongue, Patrick?"

"I have nothing to say." Jane had plenty of things he could have said, but he just didn't feel like voicing them to the serial killer.

"Really?" Red John sounded amused. Jane opened his mouth to tell the man to go to hell, when Red John continued on. "I want to think you for giving me back my Teresa," Jane indiscreetly glanced at the woman, who a bright smile at the praise her "master" was giving her, "before you entered the picture with her, I had feared that I would need to kill her. Now," Jane could hear the smile in the killer's voice, "she's perfect. Aren't you, Teresa?"

"Yes, sir." Teresa stated, as if she were out of breath. "Perfect."

Red John chuckled. "She really is something else, isn't she?" Jane couldn't disagree with the murderer. Brainwashed or not, Teresa still puzzled him. "If you and I were friends, we could share her. As I'm sure you've noticed, she has particular…" Red John paused and Jane thought he was fishing for the right words. "…qualities, which made her extremely desirable."

Jane clenched his teeth together.

Red John used Teresa purely for pleasure and her feeling him out had been Red John's way to seed out her wavering loyalties. Jane realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that if he hadn't hypnotized her, Red John would have slaughtered her for her transgressions.

"Go to hell." Jane spat and Red John sighed.

"As you wish." Red John replied. "Teresa," the serial killer addressed and Teresa pulled her eyes away from Jane, while she still wore a smile, "cut off two of his fingers, you choose which ones. Then, we should go."

"Yes, sir." Teresa responded, before Jane was yanked from his seat, only to be thrown against the hood of the vehicle. His body and head continued to ache, as Teresa grabbed onto his ring finger—her touch, soft and achingly familiar—and she pressed the sharp scissors against his skin. "Having fun yet, Patrick?" Jane cried out. If Teresa had been of her sound mind, he knew, she wouldn't have done anything like that. Just as he had been about to lose a finger, the FBI came to his rescue. The large man with the gun threw him from the roof of the vehicle and he rolled off into the dirt.

Jane merely watched at the limo with Red John and Teresa sped away; he only hoped that she wouldn't die.


	7. Epilogue

**Title: **Duplicity

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

* * *

**Epilogue: **

Inside the dimly lit interrogation room, Lorelei Martins sat across from Teresa Lisbon. Both women, in Jane's mind, were equally matched and he couldn't stop himself from thinking about what if both women had taken a different path in life? Teresa had said that she had joined Red John, because of the beatings that her had father continued to dole upon her and her brothers after her mother had been killed, but what if Teresa's father had ended his life days prior to Red John's offer of friendship to the brunette fifteen-year-old? Would the brunette have still somehow found her way on the other side of the table or would she had been the one asking all of the tough questions instead of Martins?

Martins, dressed in a white collarless shirt and black dress pants, started the conversation. "I'm happy to meet you, Teresa. We rarely get the chance to talk to somebody who knows Red John so well." Teresa wore a smirk and Jane frowned. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to free her from the suggestion, as the CBI had almost refused to let him into the room.

"It's nice to meet you too. Patrick has told me so much about you." Hands cuffed together, denim jacket on her shoulders—Teresa looked every part of a prisoner. Teresa's eyes darted toward his and he drew in a sharp breath. "We were lovers," her eyes lingered on his, "him and me." Jane almost rolled his eyes; just because two people were attractive, didn't mean they necessarily had to have an attraction toward one another. He hadn't even thought of having a relationship with anybody, until he had met the broken Teresa and her unforgivable sins. "Did he tell you that?" Martins said nothing, though she already knew. Jane had confessed their night together and Martins had merely batted an eye at the idea that he was no longer celibate. "No?" Teresa glanced in his direction again, a slight pout on her lips. "Why not? Are you ashamed of us? Did we do something bad?" He saw the light tremble of her lip and he wondered when had she gotten to be such a good actress and when had her eyes become less honest? Had it between the hypnotic suggestion and their last meeting? Or had it been within the time that Red John and she had sped away?

At the end of their night together, Teresa hadn't done anything bad. He had. He had allowed himself to gain feelings for a woman, who had probably been just as tainted as the red devil himself.

Jane pushed away from the wall in anger. "I know it's hard to believe now, but you're going to tell us." Jane slowly approached her, as he knew he had to break the suggestion. "You're going to break down and tell us everything you know about Red John?" He placed his hands upon her shoulders; she didn't flinch away from his touch. "You're going to sing like a bird."

Teresa grinned. "No, I won't."

"Yes, you will." Jane whispered, as he bent down and placed his lips against the top of her head. Teresa said nothing at the tender contact. Her dark hair smelled of vanilla and he pulled away from her, the pleasant aroma creating knots of worry within his stomach. Why was she quiet? The gentle press of his lips against her head should have broken her from his earlier suggestion, but it hadn't. His eyes briefly met hers; the brunette's beauty marred by the twisted little smirk she wore and her eyes—once full of life and full of warmth—held nothing, except an overwhelming amount of hollowness and darkness.

Jane stepped back in alarm, his lips parted slightly. He had hypnotized and un-hypnotized hundreds of individuals before, but he had never seen anything like that. His heart pounded within his chest, as Martins placed her hand to his shoulder. Jane saw her mouth move, but he couldn't hear a word of what she had been saying.

He wondered what had gone wrong with his entire plan? Had Red John been two steps ahead of him the entire time or had Patrick Jane just underestimated Teresa Lisbon?

Before he could say anything, Teresa spoke again. "Maybe next time, Patrick." Her voice—unlike the sweet one he had heard days prior to her interrogation—held a somber note. He felt the icy tendrils of fear grasp at his heart.

Unable to admit he had been wrong about her or Red John, Jane quickly left both women in the interrogation room alone. Her last words, much like the temptress of a woman who had spoken them aloud, could have held more meanings and there was only so much time left for them both.


End file.
